Aysen Omarn
Jul 29, 2012 21:19:38 GMT -5
Post by Aysen on Jul 29, 2012 21:19:38 GMT -5
(Theme music just because; will most likely end before you finish reading )
Full Name: Aysen Omarn (eye-sen)
Other name(s): Aysen Jairicksson, Holy Cornered-rat, Snapping Turtle
Race: Human
Side: Empire
Birthplace: Urû’baen
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Birthday: April 21st (Taurus)
Eyes: Storm Grey
Hair: Black, close cropped when stationed in Urû’baen, grows quickly when actively deployed and stops around shoulder length.
Weight: 208 - 210 lbs
Height: 6"1 - 6"2
Magic User: No
Preferred Weapon(s): Shield and one handed weapon
(Aysen, after experiencing many skirmishes under the banner of the empire, has invested a great many hours perfecting his shield technique. There are many weapons in Alagaësia, some quick and deadly, some strong and crippling, however, a shield is fairly static, and for good reason. There is nothing quite like a shield, which protects as well as intimidates, capable of two front offenses and sturdy, wall-like defenses. He often prefers a trusty one and half-hand hilt blade for perfect infantry sparring on the field or a light, iron pointed spear from which its long range coupled with a shield gives him the upper hand. Just in case, he'll usually go into battle with both, choosing versatility over practicality.)
Appearance:
(Assuming empire soldiers look like Greek Hoplites...)
6"1, perhaps 6"2 now, Empire soldier training has brought him to the peak of body performance, and then a bit more from constant training. When thinking, his brow often wrinkles and thick veins run though his temple areas. His brow itself is about 4 fingers tall and an extended hand wide. His eyes are large under black, medium depth eyebrows that sweep upwards at the ends. A prominent nose that ends in a slight hook with wide nostrils dominate the center of his face. The only other thing of note is the placement of his cheekbones; High and visible beneath his skin, giving him a slight noble look despite his position in the empirical army. His skin is tan from long hours spent in the sun, seemingly barely containing the rippling muscles underneath. He stands out among his fellow brothers in arms being taller and thicker, which has helped his comrades on numerous occasions when seeking his help on the battlefield.
Personality: Aysen has a strong determination to protect those around him and close to him. In battle, he favors a shield not only because of the sustainability factor, but also because it fits his mind set well enough. He is a protector of life, and a reaper to those that would seek to cause harm to the comrades he has sworn to protect. He is a rational thinker, and also very creative, combining the two mindsets to tear through enemies as if he'd had 50 years to plan out his actions. His comrades call him a genius, he simply prefers the term "clever". His modesty also shows after a rough battle, knowing he is the reason that many of his comrades still breathe, and yet accepts no praise. This can be attributed to the fact he is an orphan, and knows not his parents nor his origins, feeling as if the praise is undeserving without parents to make proud. For that reason, he fights as an unknown soldier, an unknown hero, to provide more breaths of life for those around him. He enjoys socializing and finding out about how his comrades are holding up and making merry from time to time, splitting battle and rest into two separate people within him. He cares very little for Galbatorix's mad dash for power and only a bit more about the war itself, his swearing of oaths just a stepping stone in his life. His reasons remain his own and even though he may die namelessly on the battlefield, he will take as many bastards out as he can around him.
Likes: Shields, fighting, training, strategics, conversing with others, Mead.
Dislikes: Death of comrades, Whining(Although, he sympathizes with the reason most of the time), stubbornness, Magic.
Strengths:
-Fighting one on one and handicapped two on one.
-High physical endurance and speed(Can match that of a young warrior elf on average)
-Persuading others that he will protect them and uplifting spirits even in the most pessimistic circumstances.
Weakness:
-His comrades, when they are in danger Aysen tends to favor hastily put together thoughts and actions in battle. This results in risky endeavors that will often allow an enemy to put him in a worse situation than before with little difficulty.
-Magic; He is but one man
Family: Orphan with no memories of parents. (May add father, Jairick, later)
History: In the early years of Aysen's human life, a baby wrapped in a single thin sheet of blanket was left abandoned at a local chapel's doors on a stormy night. When discovered, the priest were startled yet intrigued to find the babies strength had not faded in the wind and the rain. However, the second the child opened his eyes and stared at them with irises the color of the raging storm itself, they were assured of his strong will. They took him in and found a name scribbled upon a ribbon which was tied to the child's foot and kept dry from the storms fury. Aysen, a name which reminded the priest of the storm outside and so they felt it fitting for him to keep it.
He was raised there in the chapel, shunned as if he were a nobles bastard child(Which many assumed he was). He paid them no mind, diligently working on whatever tasks he was given. This said, he avoided giving himself to the strange religion the chapel practiced, never caring to even know it by its name. This was because as a child, he had never given up hope that his parents would come and embrace him into their arms once he was old enough, and it would be rude to disagree with whatever they believed in-should they choose to believe-,happy just to have a place to belong. He was fortunate enough that the priest seemed to understand this and respect his wishes as long as he did what he was told to do, which he did without complaint and well.
Aysen's 18th birthday will forever be etched in his memory as clear as a teardrop, the day the chapel, no, his entire life up to that point burned to a crisp. Whatever the priest had been doing, the empire took notice of it and negatively, sending a contingent of soldiers to raze it to the ground. Aysen himself had gone out against the chapels wishes to celebrate, making merry with his friends that consisted of the sons and daughters of the regular chapel-goers. When they all turned in for the night, Aysen headed back to the chapel, only to find it lit up like a blazing bonfire, screaming priest running into the streets on fire as well. The young man dropped to his knees, his only home slipping away as empire soldiers ruthlessly tossed flaming torches upon the building.
Before long, the empire soldiers noticed him and his partial priest garb and attacked. The fire-light dancing in Aysens stormy Grey eyes gave way to vengeance in his heart, advancing to one knee as a spear bore down upon him. Abandonment and guilt gave way to rage in his body as he shifted and allowed the spear-point to narrowly pass his ribcage and embed itself into the ground. Grasping the spear with both hands, Aysen lifted upwards, allowing the brazen soldiers own momentum to lift him off the ground and over Aysen's body, landing on his head and breaking his neck. Now with an unfamiliar weapon, Aysen continued to lift until the spear shaft bent and the iron tip flung forward, ripping itself free of the ground and cobblestone and spraying rock and dirt into the next soldiers face. Keeping hold of the spear somehow, Aysen took advantage of the area under the soldiers armpit which was not covered by his armor. The soldier kept revealing it, lifting his arm to wipe the dirt and grime off his face, smearing it in his eyes and making it worse. Aysen rammed the spear into this weak spot, extracting a yelp of pain from his victim.
Not so naive as to let go of his new deadly weapon, he pulled the spear back, spraying hot life liquid upon himself and those around him, which only included more empirical soldiers. He swung the spear hastily, expending his energy to keep the soldiers at bay and far away from him, which was not easy. After witnessing the deaths of their two comrades, the soldiers were not eager to engage the youth as well, not at least while he still had so much energy.
With a sweat on his brow and the spear shaft growing slick under his palms from the constant swinging and jabbing at the 5 empire soldiers that surrounded him, Aysen strained to hear the "click-clacking" of horseshoes on the city streets. Upon a black steed rode a man that wore similar, if not more embroidered, armor to the common infantry around him. He stepped off his horse, hes blue eyes never leaving Aysen as if boring into the boys skull. Aysen acknowledged his presence by courageously aiming the spear at the mans heart.
As the man stepped forward, he reached for a powerful looking sword on his back and as if thinking better of it, changed directions so that his hand landed on the worn hilt of a hunting knife. Aysen couldn't help think it was a sign of disrespect, but he was nothing more than a chapel boy, and was lucky to of survived thus far and counted his blessings as the priest would have reminded him to. The soldiers surrounding him backed away, weapons ready as if they half expected the man to fall, half expecting to jump upon Aysen as soon as he fell so as to make certain he was dead. The sound of the knife sliding out of it's scabbard was that of a city snake, hissing from the back of a dark alleyway. Aysen's heart burned with a fire that the chapel behind the man lacked as it gave way to little more than ash and sorrow. His eyes became heavy lidded from exhaustion and ash particles obscuring them.
The man struck, avoiding the tip of the spear and pushing it upwards as he placed his tricep upon the spear shaft and raised his arm. Aysen had no choice but to attempt to guard an attack from the knife with what little spear shaft he held between his grip on the spear, reducing his chances to near 0. He was no warrior, and as the blade aimed to go below the narrow strip of safety and towards his exposed belly, Aysen thought of his parents-well, the idea of his parents- and missed the detail when the man flipped the knife and rammed the pommel of it into Aysen's stomach, driving the wind out of him. He dropped to his knees, the spear clattering with a sound that Aysen immediately associated with death. The last thing he remembered was utter blackness as the man backhanded Aysen with an armored hand.
When he next awoke, he felt the presence of the king bearing down upon him, his legs and wrist shackled. The king, Galbatorix put his hand firmly under his chin(or perhaps Aysen only imagined he did so, as to reason why he sensed he could not look away) and looked into Aysen's eyes, instantly sending the boy into a cold panic. Within a matter of minutes, Aysen had sworn fealty to the king, swearing that he would serve him to the end of his days in his armies. Weakly, Aysen blacked out after the King released him, as if the sheer power Galbatorix commanded was the only thing that kept him conscious. Within a matter of hours, Aysen's life had been taken from him, rearranged, and set on a new path without any consent from him.
From there on, Aysen was drafted and trained to be an empire soldier, learning surprisingly quickly for a new trainee. His story of the night the chapel burned spread among the ranks of soldiers as they noticed his skill for combat, earning him the title of Holy Cornered Rat. Whether its intent was glorious or degrading, Aysen didn't know and did not care, as it was usually used in both contexts as his skill continued to grow. Later, he acquired the name "Snapping Turtle" once his prowess and preference for shields emerged in friendly empire sparing sessions. Even Aysen was convinced that if he had a shield within his possession the night the chapel burned, he would not have been captured.
His life was not all battle and training however, as he was just as determined to make the empire barracks and army a place where he belonged, just as he done at the chapel. He socialized frequently with the other trainees outside of battle, creating bonds as if they were family. Aysen doubted the trainees knew of his selfish reasons to use them to fill a hole that the chapel left, for he was liked and tolerated as he bested them in combat modestly.He never gloated in victory, and learned in failure when he faced more experienced opponents. He took lessons on the finer details of fighting on the fields to heart, like watching a mans eyes to betray his future actions and thus use that knowledge to end the mans life. In the end, life in the Empire was good for Aysen, a place where he belonged.
Aysen's first battle was shorter than he expected. After two years of training, Aysen was placed in a new recruit only regiment. This regiment was ordered to put down a small rebellion outside of Dras-Leona, which had ignited due to Varden movements against Feinster and Belatona in the south. A group of city rebels had broken into a guard house and armed themselves, and took various hostages through the city. Whether or not the king had actually sent his armies to deal with it or simply approved of the action, Aysen suspected he'd never know, and such was his mindset for any other orders his regiment received. When they arrived, the rebellion army( for it had grown into an army since the imperial regiment had set out ) actually met them upon the battlefield. They looked like nothing but farmers with shiny Empire weapons, a sad sight to the well structured empirical force before them. Such confidence didn't escape Aysen's notice however, and the only thing he could think of was that the rebellion had grown large enough to overtake the walls of Dras-Leona, in turn the war machines stationed upon them. As Aysen thought this, he grimaced. If those machines were turned upon the empire, a great many of his comrades would die that day.
The empire force charged, blood-curdling screams ringing out into the sky as their armored feet trampled the earth. The rebellion force began to quake as time ticked away, the empire almost upon them. Apparently, they were waiting on the siege machines on top of the walls to begin firing, but the merchants and armed civilians could not get them to fire and those they did lacked the skill and experience for aimed shots.
It was a massacre.
The only words that could describe the flurry of battle was as if Aysen was sleeping awake. He was aware of his surroundings, but he was not entirely in control of his actions, his mind and instincts taking over completely. His attacks flowed almost continuously through the lightly armored enemies, blurring together in a series of death strikes that may or may not have attracted attention from his fellow warriors. Those of the rebellion that could defend themselves did, many fled before the onslaught of the empire. Aysen lost track of how many he cut down personally, weaponless or no. The empire was his home now, as the Chapel was the night it burned down. Those that would take up arms against it had to be eliminated in Aysen's eyes. Once the field was sodden with the blood of the rebellion, recapturing Dras-Leona was fairly uneventful, allowing the empire to sweep the entire rebellion under the rug. Along with other new empire recruits, Aysen forced himself to make merry upon the return to
Urû’baen, feeding his social side and uplifting spirits for the sake of doing so while his battle fury calmed.
So now in Urû’baen, Aysen awaits his next order as does the rest of his regiment, the 101st legion. Upon command, the 101st will storm out into Alagaësia and follow their kings orders until death, as they are sworn to do. Aysen's Origin story ends here, and his legend begins.
(*bows and exits stage left as roses are thrown*)
Anything extra:
Here's a picture of Aysen's dragon, Puff
]
Full Name: Aysen Omarn (eye-sen)
Other name(s): Aysen Jairicksson, Holy Cornered-rat, Snapping Turtle
Race: Human
Side: Empire
Birthplace: Urû’baen
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Birthday: April 21st (Taurus)
Eyes: Storm Grey
Hair: Black, close cropped when stationed in Urû’baen, grows quickly when actively deployed and stops around shoulder length.
Weight: 208 - 210 lbs
Height: 6"1 - 6"2
Magic User: No
Preferred Weapon(s): Shield and one handed weapon
(Aysen, after experiencing many skirmishes under the banner of the empire, has invested a great many hours perfecting his shield technique. There are many weapons in Alagaësia, some quick and deadly, some strong and crippling, however, a shield is fairly static, and for good reason. There is nothing quite like a shield, which protects as well as intimidates, capable of two front offenses and sturdy, wall-like defenses. He often prefers a trusty one and half-hand hilt blade for perfect infantry sparring on the field or a light, iron pointed spear from which its long range coupled with a shield gives him the upper hand. Just in case, he'll usually go into battle with both, choosing versatility over practicality.)
Appearance:
(Assuming empire soldiers look like Greek Hoplites...)
6"1, perhaps 6"2 now, Empire soldier training has brought him to the peak of body performance, and then a bit more from constant training. When thinking, his brow often wrinkles and thick veins run though his temple areas. His brow itself is about 4 fingers tall and an extended hand wide. His eyes are large under black, medium depth eyebrows that sweep upwards at the ends. A prominent nose that ends in a slight hook with wide nostrils dominate the center of his face. The only other thing of note is the placement of his cheekbones; High and visible beneath his skin, giving him a slight noble look despite his position in the empirical army. His skin is tan from long hours spent in the sun, seemingly barely containing the rippling muscles underneath. He stands out among his fellow brothers in arms being taller and thicker, which has helped his comrades on numerous occasions when seeking his help on the battlefield.
Personality: Aysen has a strong determination to protect those around him and close to him. In battle, he favors a shield not only because of the sustainability factor, but also because it fits his mind set well enough. He is a protector of life, and a reaper to those that would seek to cause harm to the comrades he has sworn to protect. He is a rational thinker, and also very creative, combining the two mindsets to tear through enemies as if he'd had 50 years to plan out his actions. His comrades call him a genius, he simply prefers the term "clever". His modesty also shows after a rough battle, knowing he is the reason that many of his comrades still breathe, and yet accepts no praise. This can be attributed to the fact he is an orphan, and knows not his parents nor his origins, feeling as if the praise is undeserving without parents to make proud. For that reason, he fights as an unknown soldier, an unknown hero, to provide more breaths of life for those around him. He enjoys socializing and finding out about how his comrades are holding up and making merry from time to time, splitting battle and rest into two separate people within him. He cares very little for Galbatorix's mad dash for power and only a bit more about the war itself, his swearing of oaths just a stepping stone in his life. His reasons remain his own and even though he may die namelessly on the battlefield, he will take as many bastards out as he can around him.
Likes: Shields, fighting, training, strategics, conversing with others, Mead.
Dislikes: Death of comrades, Whining(Although, he sympathizes with the reason most of the time), stubbornness, Magic.
Strengths:
-Fighting one on one and handicapped two on one.
-High physical endurance and speed(Can match that of a young warrior elf on average)
-Persuading others that he will protect them and uplifting spirits even in the most pessimistic circumstances.
Weakness:
-His comrades, when they are in danger Aysen tends to favor hastily put together thoughts and actions in battle. This results in risky endeavors that will often allow an enemy to put him in a worse situation than before with little difficulty.
-Magic; He is but one man
Family: Orphan with no memories of parents. (May add father, Jairick, later)
History: In the early years of Aysen's human life, a baby wrapped in a single thin sheet of blanket was left abandoned at a local chapel's doors on a stormy night. When discovered, the priest were startled yet intrigued to find the babies strength had not faded in the wind and the rain. However, the second the child opened his eyes and stared at them with irises the color of the raging storm itself, they were assured of his strong will. They took him in and found a name scribbled upon a ribbon which was tied to the child's foot and kept dry from the storms fury. Aysen, a name which reminded the priest of the storm outside and so they felt it fitting for him to keep it.
He was raised there in the chapel, shunned as if he were a nobles bastard child(Which many assumed he was). He paid them no mind, diligently working on whatever tasks he was given. This said, he avoided giving himself to the strange religion the chapel practiced, never caring to even know it by its name. This was because as a child, he had never given up hope that his parents would come and embrace him into their arms once he was old enough, and it would be rude to disagree with whatever they believed in-should they choose to believe-,happy just to have a place to belong. He was fortunate enough that the priest seemed to understand this and respect his wishes as long as he did what he was told to do, which he did without complaint and well.
Aysen's 18th birthday will forever be etched in his memory as clear as a teardrop, the day the chapel, no, his entire life up to that point burned to a crisp. Whatever the priest had been doing, the empire took notice of it and negatively, sending a contingent of soldiers to raze it to the ground. Aysen himself had gone out against the chapels wishes to celebrate, making merry with his friends that consisted of the sons and daughters of the regular chapel-goers. When they all turned in for the night, Aysen headed back to the chapel, only to find it lit up like a blazing bonfire, screaming priest running into the streets on fire as well. The young man dropped to his knees, his only home slipping away as empire soldiers ruthlessly tossed flaming torches upon the building.
Before long, the empire soldiers noticed him and his partial priest garb and attacked. The fire-light dancing in Aysens stormy Grey eyes gave way to vengeance in his heart, advancing to one knee as a spear bore down upon him. Abandonment and guilt gave way to rage in his body as he shifted and allowed the spear-point to narrowly pass his ribcage and embed itself into the ground. Grasping the spear with both hands, Aysen lifted upwards, allowing the brazen soldiers own momentum to lift him off the ground and over Aysen's body, landing on his head and breaking his neck. Now with an unfamiliar weapon, Aysen continued to lift until the spear shaft bent and the iron tip flung forward, ripping itself free of the ground and cobblestone and spraying rock and dirt into the next soldiers face. Keeping hold of the spear somehow, Aysen took advantage of the area under the soldiers armpit which was not covered by his armor. The soldier kept revealing it, lifting his arm to wipe the dirt and grime off his face, smearing it in his eyes and making it worse. Aysen rammed the spear into this weak spot, extracting a yelp of pain from his victim.
Not so naive as to let go of his new deadly weapon, he pulled the spear back, spraying hot life liquid upon himself and those around him, which only included more empirical soldiers. He swung the spear hastily, expending his energy to keep the soldiers at bay and far away from him, which was not easy. After witnessing the deaths of their two comrades, the soldiers were not eager to engage the youth as well, not at least while he still had so much energy.
With a sweat on his brow and the spear shaft growing slick under his palms from the constant swinging and jabbing at the 5 empire soldiers that surrounded him, Aysen strained to hear the "click-clacking" of horseshoes on the city streets. Upon a black steed rode a man that wore similar, if not more embroidered, armor to the common infantry around him. He stepped off his horse, hes blue eyes never leaving Aysen as if boring into the boys skull. Aysen acknowledged his presence by courageously aiming the spear at the mans heart.
As the man stepped forward, he reached for a powerful looking sword on his back and as if thinking better of it, changed directions so that his hand landed on the worn hilt of a hunting knife. Aysen couldn't help think it was a sign of disrespect, but he was nothing more than a chapel boy, and was lucky to of survived thus far and counted his blessings as the priest would have reminded him to. The soldiers surrounding him backed away, weapons ready as if they half expected the man to fall, half expecting to jump upon Aysen as soon as he fell so as to make certain he was dead. The sound of the knife sliding out of it's scabbard was that of a city snake, hissing from the back of a dark alleyway. Aysen's heart burned with a fire that the chapel behind the man lacked as it gave way to little more than ash and sorrow. His eyes became heavy lidded from exhaustion and ash particles obscuring them.
The man struck, avoiding the tip of the spear and pushing it upwards as he placed his tricep upon the spear shaft and raised his arm. Aysen had no choice but to attempt to guard an attack from the knife with what little spear shaft he held between his grip on the spear, reducing his chances to near 0. He was no warrior, and as the blade aimed to go below the narrow strip of safety and towards his exposed belly, Aysen thought of his parents-well, the idea of his parents- and missed the detail when the man flipped the knife and rammed the pommel of it into Aysen's stomach, driving the wind out of him. He dropped to his knees, the spear clattering with a sound that Aysen immediately associated with death. The last thing he remembered was utter blackness as the man backhanded Aysen with an armored hand.
When he next awoke, he felt the presence of the king bearing down upon him, his legs and wrist shackled. The king, Galbatorix put his hand firmly under his chin(or perhaps Aysen only imagined he did so, as to reason why he sensed he could not look away) and looked into Aysen's eyes, instantly sending the boy into a cold panic. Within a matter of minutes, Aysen had sworn fealty to the king, swearing that he would serve him to the end of his days in his armies. Weakly, Aysen blacked out after the King released him, as if the sheer power Galbatorix commanded was the only thing that kept him conscious. Within a matter of hours, Aysen's life had been taken from him, rearranged, and set on a new path without any consent from him.
From there on, Aysen was drafted and trained to be an empire soldier, learning surprisingly quickly for a new trainee. His story of the night the chapel burned spread among the ranks of soldiers as they noticed his skill for combat, earning him the title of Holy Cornered Rat. Whether its intent was glorious or degrading, Aysen didn't know and did not care, as it was usually used in both contexts as his skill continued to grow. Later, he acquired the name "Snapping Turtle" once his prowess and preference for shields emerged in friendly empire sparing sessions. Even Aysen was convinced that if he had a shield within his possession the night the chapel burned, he would not have been captured.
His life was not all battle and training however, as he was just as determined to make the empire barracks and army a place where he belonged, just as he done at the chapel. He socialized frequently with the other trainees outside of battle, creating bonds as if they were family. Aysen doubted the trainees knew of his selfish reasons to use them to fill a hole that the chapel left, for he was liked and tolerated as he bested them in combat modestly.He never gloated in victory, and learned in failure when he faced more experienced opponents. He took lessons on the finer details of fighting on the fields to heart, like watching a mans eyes to betray his future actions and thus use that knowledge to end the mans life. In the end, life in the Empire was good for Aysen, a place where he belonged.
Aysen's first battle was shorter than he expected. After two years of training, Aysen was placed in a new recruit only regiment. This regiment was ordered to put down a small rebellion outside of Dras-Leona, which had ignited due to Varden movements against Feinster and Belatona in the south. A group of city rebels had broken into a guard house and armed themselves, and took various hostages through the city. Whether or not the king had actually sent his armies to deal with it or simply approved of the action, Aysen suspected he'd never know, and such was his mindset for any other orders his regiment received. When they arrived, the rebellion army( for it had grown into an army since the imperial regiment had set out ) actually met them upon the battlefield. They looked like nothing but farmers with shiny Empire weapons, a sad sight to the well structured empirical force before them. Such confidence didn't escape Aysen's notice however, and the only thing he could think of was that the rebellion had grown large enough to overtake the walls of Dras-Leona, in turn the war machines stationed upon them. As Aysen thought this, he grimaced. If those machines were turned upon the empire, a great many of his comrades would die that day.
The empire force charged, blood-curdling screams ringing out into the sky as their armored feet trampled the earth. The rebellion force began to quake as time ticked away, the empire almost upon them. Apparently, they were waiting on the siege machines on top of the walls to begin firing, but the merchants and armed civilians could not get them to fire and those they did lacked the skill and experience for aimed shots.
It was a massacre.
The only words that could describe the flurry of battle was as if Aysen was sleeping awake. He was aware of his surroundings, but he was not entirely in control of his actions, his mind and instincts taking over completely. His attacks flowed almost continuously through the lightly armored enemies, blurring together in a series of death strikes that may or may not have attracted attention from his fellow warriors. Those of the rebellion that could defend themselves did, many fled before the onslaught of the empire. Aysen lost track of how many he cut down personally, weaponless or no. The empire was his home now, as the Chapel was the night it burned down. Those that would take up arms against it had to be eliminated in Aysen's eyes. Once the field was sodden with the blood of the rebellion, recapturing Dras-Leona was fairly uneventful, allowing the empire to sweep the entire rebellion under the rug. Along with other new empire recruits, Aysen forced himself to make merry upon the return to
Urû’baen, feeding his social side and uplifting spirits for the sake of doing so while his battle fury calmed.
So now in Urû’baen, Aysen awaits his next order as does the rest of his regiment, the 101st legion. Upon command, the 101st will storm out into Alagaësia and follow their kings orders until death, as they are sworn to do. Aysen's Origin story ends here, and his legend begins.
(*bows and exits stage left as roses are thrown*)
Anything extra:
] password: witch of terim
. *grabby hands*
